Books
by AuthorandArtist1025
Summary: Gelphie! My first wicked fanfic. Mix between bookverse and musical verse. "Why did you drop your book, Elphie?"


Author: AuthorandArtist1025  
Rating: PG  
Notes: My first Wicked fanfiction! Please comment! Let me know if I suck now, rather than letting me go through life in ignorance and having people snicker behind my back.  
Disclaimer: I don't own Wicked, or Elphie, or Galinda, or any other characters. Gregory Maguire has that luxury.

**Books**

I muttered a word of thanks as the book I had dropped a moment ago was returned to my possession. The pale, pinkish hand that had previously held the novel dropped to the side of the blonde it belonged to.

"Elphie?"

I looked up into the sky blue eyes of my roommate. "Mm?"

"Why did you drop your book?"

Her question confused me, but my whirling mind came up with a sarcastic response just the same, and before I could stop myself, it came blurting out of my mouth.

"What in Oz's name do you mean, Miss Galinda? Are humans not flawed? Though my lack of a normal skin tone may perplex people, I am human, I can promise you that."

Galinda's eyes narrowed and she frowned. "I'm not questioning your humanity, _Miss Elphaba_," She said angrily, using my honorific in a mocking tone. "Only the reason for your sudden inability to hold onto your reading material."

To be honest, I was surprised. Galinda was not one to make such brusque retorts. She didn't madden easily, either. Her emotions came and went swiftly, like a strong wind, and required a sizeable stimulus, such as a remarkably snide comment from her verdant roommate.

I also realized that no matter how hard I thought, I could not recall what had motivated me to drop my book.

As predicted, Galinda's anger went as soon as it had come and she settled herself at the foot of my bed.

"I only mean to say," She began, and I focused my eyes on her. "That you tend to be more attentive when you're reading, or doing other schoolwork. You usually aren't so clumsy, so I assume there must be a reason."

I looked at her, her wide eyes staring at me, unyielding, her perfectly plucked eyebrows raised, her lips positioned in a slight pout…

Then something in my brain clicked.

_After reading a passage in my book that had been particularly interesting, I was pondering, looking around the room, vaguely registering what I saw. My eyes fell onto a strange sight; my petite, peppy roommate, sitting on her pink bed, clad in a matching pink nightgown. This was quite common. The strange part was that she was studying._

_I watched in amazement, as her eyes, sparkling in the firelight, scanned the pages of the textbook she was observing, and the pen flew across parchment, leaving loopy, handwritten notes in its wake._

_I watched her eyes, the fierceness and determination in them obvious even from across the room._

_I watched her scrunch up her face in concentration, eyebrows coming together and a full blown pout gracing her lips._

_I watched her lips, the way she softly bit the bottom lip, the way her small tongue stuck out from the corner of her mouth at random intervals._

_I noted the fullness of her lips, the flawlessness, the way they were seemingly unaffected by the frigid weather, the color._

_As I stared absentmindedly at her lips, I found myself wondering if pink really did go good with green…_

And that's when I had dropped my book.

My mind was blank. My eyes widened and I stuttered, "Um…well…I…ah…"

Galinda smirked, not obnoxiously, but a smirk nonetheless. "Why, Miss Elphaba," she repositioned herself, now lying on her stomach with her legs moving lazily behind her. "I do believe I've never seen you at a loss for words. It's refreshing." The smirk vanished. "But it makes my interest in your reply even greater."

I opened my mouth, prepared to lie to her face, but what spilled out was the truth.

"I was thinking about you." I said quietly, a blush forming in my cheeks. I diverted my eyes to my worn book, still clutched in my folded hands. I felt her gaze on me, and raised my eyes slightly. She was staring, with a relatively calm expression, but a sense of bewilderedness was emanating from her. She was in a different position now, sitting up, leaning back on her heels. Her hands were clasped together, resting in her lap, and her head was tilted slightly to the side. Feeling self conscious, I brought my legs up to my chest, resting my chin on my right knee and wrapping my arms around myself, never breaking the gaze.

"Do you think about me a lot?" she questioned, fear and confusion radiating from the both of us.

"I suppose so," I answered, embarrassed.

She leaned forward, in a crawling position, and began to inch closer to me. "What do you think about?"

"Everything," I once again surprised myself with my answer.

"And what do you think of me?" she inquired, and for a moment I saw the little girl in her, absolutely terrified of the worlds opinion of her.

I smiled, sadly, comfortingly, truthfully. "There aren't enough words in the world to even begin to describe you."

She continued to crawl closer. "Well, then," she said, coming up beside me. "I suppose it's only fair," she placed her hands on my knees, pulling them down so they lay flat on the bed. My hands fell gently onto the bed and I kept my head down, my face burning. "To tell you," A soft hand lifted my chin gently. I found I was staring into her eyes. "I think about you, too." She smiled shyly. "A lot." She moved the hand from my face to rest gently on my neck and leaned closer so that her mouth was next to my ear. I stopped breathing.

"And your skin is not abnormal," She whispered, "it's exquisite."

And then she pulled away from my ear and pressed her lips – those marvelous lips that I admire so much – to mine.

I dropped my book again.


End file.
